


Crushed

by space_ally



Series: Whole again [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt, Feminine Victor, Gen, Haircuts, His beautiful long hair, Homophobia, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, I'm sorry for making Yakov look so bad, Internalized Homophobia, MY POOR CHILD, No shipping, Past Child Abuse, Pls just let him be himself, Victor is sixteen, Victor needs a hug, Victor's parents are awful, Victors's past, just feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_ally/pseuds/space_ally
Summary: Viktor stared at his coach blankly. Not able to process the thoughts. Not able to say anything because he felt everything. Just a short and angsty Oneshot about Victor's past because I like to make myself sad.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to pick up on the theory about Viktor's insecurities about his hair and the line from episode 7: "Skater's hearts are as fragile as glass."

Viktor Nikiforov grew up causing his parents great trouble. 

 

“Why are you like that? Why?”, his mother cried out, her voice a mixture between anger and desperation, the five year old grabbed by his wrist. She didn’t manage to control her wrath and let it out on the tiny silver haired who didn’t even understand what could be wrong with skating. 

 

Viktor loved his mom, despite the things she did to him. She was nothing compared to his father though. 

 

The man was always drunk, always too loud and if he would have found out about Viktor’s secret admiration towards not only figure skating but also his coach, a bruised eye would mean getting away lucky. 

 

Perhaps that was the reason his mom yelled at him this much. She didn’t want him to turn out bad. Wrong. A disgrace to the family. She always said he’d look too feminine anyway with his bluish-green eyes, always full of warmth and tenderness, his long lashes and his silver locks she couldn’t get a pair of scissors anywhere near. 

 

School was harsh on him as well. He was known as ‘that weird kid that spent his time dancing ballet at the rink’ but he was used to the name calling and the slurs.

 

The twelve year old Viktor looked back on his life in some kind of awe.

 

The fourteen year old Viktor stopped looking back at all. He eventually became numb to the nasty treatment from his classmates and he left his home some time ago after an incident with his father resulting in two broken ribs, a fractured ankle and the inability to skate for at least two months.

 

The fifteen year old Viktor seemed to surprise the right people in his home country and made his admiration into his life task. 

 

At sixteen he considered himself at the top. And even though he loved what he did, he always felt that emptiness inside of him, a constant reminder that there was something missing but he couldn’t determine what it was. 

 

“Viktor. We need to do something about your hair”, Yakov one day said and Viktor felt like his chest got crushed by an anvil. 

 

“It’s my hair. I think I get to decide on what to do with it.” - “It’s too feminine. We should start working on you demonstrating strength and masculinity.”

 

Yakov made a move to touch Viktor’s silver locks but the sixteen year old dodged his touch with a pace and gracefulness only a figure skater could have. 

 

“Don’t!”, he growled, shooting deadly glances at his coach, tensed and on edge, prepared to run away again if he needed to. He survived fifteen awful years with people who treated him like shit, he didn’t need someone to determine his life for him again. 

 

His coach held up his hands to signalize peace, sighing: “There are other things I want to talk about too. That guy you’re hanging around with.”

 

“Nicholas? What’s that all about?”, Viktor asked, confusion written all over his face, lips pressed to a thin line to control his temper. 

 

“There are rumors. Vitya. People talk. You need to stop seeing each other or it will ruin your reputation. You’re not going to become a top skater by allowing gay rumors to spread.”

 

Using a nickname must have been Yakov’s attempt to make it sound more friendly but he failed it entirely. Viktor reached for his phone, fingers tightening around the device to hide how hard they were shaking.

 

“He means a lot to me”, he attempted to answer back, “I can’t just-”, but Yakov interrupted: “I don’t care. I’m your coach, I do what’s best for your career. I promised your mother to watch out for you.”

 

Viktor stared at his coach blankly. Not able to process the thoughts. Not able to say anything because he felt everything. 

 

Blood rushing through his veins, anger, so much anger burning inside of him but even worse was the pain. Not a physical one, not the one he was used to. Viktor felt hurt as if someone just ripped his chest open and crushed his heart. Betrayal. 

 

“You talked to my mother”, he forced the words out, almost spitting them in front of Yakov’s feet. The coach glanced at the teenager. “You left me no choice. She is worried about you and she wants you back at home. She is proud of you and wants you to know that but you never call her back.”

 

Viktor welcomed the hot tears running down his cheeks because those were tears of anger and hate and he needed them, needed those feelings to shower over his body like a typhoon, aiming to destroy. 

 

“Please be reasonable, Viktor”, Yakov tried to calm the silver haired down, plucking at the fabric of the old sofa he sat on. 

 

“You people always tried to fit me into your perfect world, trying to push me into a role you decided for me! I thought you were different! I thought you wanted to coach the real me when you scouted me at that time!”, Viktor knocked over the chair behind him, storming out of the room and right back in again, something silvery shining in his hands.

 

“Don’t be too feminine, Viktor”, he imitated his mother’s voice, revealing the shiny object. 

 

“Don’t hang around guys all the time”, this time, it was Yakov’s voice he tried to copy, holding on the scissors he brought tightly.

 

“You deserve all the slurs thrown at you!”, he screamed at the boy in the mirror, cutting off a long strand of hair and watching it fall to the ground.

 

“Viktor!”, Yakov tried to stop him, frightened by this new side he’d never seen before, but Viktor stepped backwards, this time, he knocked the mirror over.

 

The sound of shattering glass mixed with Viktor’s frantic scream.

 

More silver locks falling down. Viktor repeating the things they said about him, every insult he could think of, that he brushed off as nothing but couldn’t forget because it left deep scars on his soul.

 

When there was nothing left except for messy bangs and some strands he missed, he fell on his knees, panting, crying.

 

“I’m into guys. I have no idea how you intend to fix this, but good luck. Here I am.”

 

Viktor’s voice was broken, his hands brushing through the hair lying on the floor.

 

Blue eyes with tears in them gazed at the coach, waiting for him to do something. Say something. Viktor almost expected to be hit. 

 

“Vitya”, came the soft answer and the teenager laughed bitterly.

 

“Now you got your perfect puppet. Dress me as you like, let me dance through the strings. Whatever pleases you. Just don’t expect me to care anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats for making it so far! 
> 
> I'm so so so sorry but I just felt like it and something must have happened in the past because Vik is basically a mystery. Maybe I'll write a sequel (with Yuri of course because he's a ray of sunshine and those ice gays make me happy and Vik deserves to be happy as well). Feel free to leave your opinion in the comments (:


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